Year: 2011

November 30, 2011

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my greatest inspiration was our lunch in soho yesterday afternoon; a french restaurant. potato soup, pasta and a cup of black coffee. I took photographs, admiring the light and atmosphere of those minutes. the weather has been good to us the last few days. I am only hoping it will last. there is more here.

written last night. november days in hong kong; so different from last year.

8:23 pm. he’s asleep on the sofa as I type this. broken social scene is keeping me company but I am not really listening to the words of lover’s spit even though it is one of the best songs on the album. it has been a long time since I listened to it. the past few days I have been waking up to yellow glow of our apartment as the sun touches the walls through the curtains in my room. my morning routines are starting to set their roots in my day. during the first few minutes of my consciousness I am not responsive to the outer world but the words of the day are already being formed in my mind. I imagine them on paper; what they sound like, what they taste like. I picture my words being printed in a book on a shelf in a bookstore. that image, that idea never leaves me. and then I remember.

I remember that my words are filled with gaps and pauses and there is so much I am not capable of noting down the way it should be. sometimes my imagination precedes me and the meaning of words escapes me. so I take photographs instead, I read other people’s words hoping they will provide me with comfort I cannot find in my own writing. I keep thinking of susan sontag and her greatness. I am constantly reminded that the only thing standing between me and being a great writer is laziness. I keep trying to find excuses. writer’s block, too much work, too many people. this and that.

at the end of the day I sit down and write. write, write, write, write. like there’s no tomorrow. because there isn’t one. for some reason filmmaker’s apartment is the only place right now I can find some quiet moments. I wanted to think it’s a good thing but it actually feels as if chains have been tied around my arms. but I still took a minibus back to the ghetto; we had dinner and we walked around. I am confused around tsuen wan and I never really know where to turn because it all looks the same. but then I don’t have to know anything for as long he’ll be waiting at the bus station with a newspaper in one hand and twenty fifth cigarette of the day in the other.

November 29, 2011

perfect sunday, working sunday, relaxing sunday. warm weather, blue skies. coffee, lunch, beach. markets and bookshops. taking photographs, walking around. talking, laughing, smiling. sitting in silence. bombay, twilight, bokeh. traffic jam, zaz on repeat. chicken kebab with chips for dinner. the day ended in solitude; a short walk from the red district back to central. I fell asleep before midnight.

pereguinn.co is a mix of my own photos + images found on the Internet. Please link back if you reuse any of my photos. Email me if you'd like me to remove any of images that are yours and you do not wish to be posted here. Similarly, if credits are missing somewhere, let me know.